Forgotten Hero
by Cookie Master's Apprentice
Summary: One of Kronos' minions' thoughts, a half-blood who only wants to be a hero, as he lays dying on the field, sixteen years old. Death ahead, but not too touching, so tissues are optional. You know how they babble when they're gonna die. One-shot.


_This is for a friend, who drove me to make another attempt at an OC that doesn't suck. Enjoy and review. Flamers and reviewers, all welcomed._

_Disclaimer: I won't be here writing fanfiction if I own this stuff, now would I?_

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**Forgotten Hero**

I have always liked superheroes.

Ever since I was young, I always woke up early on Saturday mornings to watch the Batman or Superman shows. Their powers, their two-faced qualities – they just fascinated me, somehow. Big Brother would tease me, and my parents would shake their heads with collective sighs, telling me to grow up. I am, after all, twelve. I should be doing something else, more _intelligible_ than watching kids' shows. Like, say, reading books.

But really, just how further can I get in academic studies? I am dyslexia, HDAD, I have nothing but straight Cs for my report cards to show my intelligent and a whole lot of detentions and violations to show to the world "what a man I am". I realized my limits, I always have known it, but Mom and Dad can't accept a moron in the family, so they pushed me harder and harder and harder, but I kept fighting, so we were never really on good terms ever since I turned eight.

Then Dad – or who, for seventeen years, I thought was my real dad – gave me that beating which awakened my half-blood powers.

I never truly recalled the incident, but when I finally came to, my family, Mom, Dad, Big Brother and even Toto, our pet dog, were dead. They lied on the floor, burned to crisps, and the smell of the burnt flesh made me throw up.

Then _he_ came. Kronos. My savior.

He appeared right there, in the body that belonged to Luke Castellan, offering me a hand and a crooked, reassuring smile. "Join us, Derek Gray," he said, "this is the fault of the gods. They cursed you, they gave you the powers that you can't control and drove you to doing this. They saw it all, and they did nothing to stop it. If you stay here, you will never be forgiven. You will never be looked upon as a human again." He waved at the completely ruined living room. "Not after this. But join with me, half-blood, and you will be a hero."

_A hero,_ my fevered mind processed those words. _Like all those superheroes on TV._ It was childish, I know, but that was all I could think of at those moments of confusion and light-headness.

I took his hand.

I entered the War against the hateful gods soon after, and I found that Kronos was right. My father was Apollo, and Dad – Dad is just a substitute for Mom after Apollo abandoned her. He was the one who gave birth to me and cursed me with powers so one day I can kill my own family. He was the God of Oracles. He saw it. And he did absolutely nothing to stop it.

Not once in the Second Titan War had I thought of my decisions to join Kronos, to plunge swords and arrows and daggers into fellow half-bloods were wrong. They called me traitors, they called me blinded by moronic Titans, but hey, don't we all have our beliefs? Mine was just different from theirs, and like them, I'm ready to die for it.

Not even now, as I lied dying here, atop of one of my best friends with two arrows through my chest, did I regret it.

I have been a hero. Kronos was right. I have been a hero in my own ways. Like I had always wanted. There were no definite villains or heroes in this war. Each side has its own opinions, and as I lied here, I suddenly came to a terrifying discovery: once I die, nobody will remember me. The Titans were winning, but knowing them, they will never remember all those who have fallen for their causes.

When I finally let go of Life, Derek Gray will be a nobody.

"Hey, he's alive!" I heard someone cried. Their voice was strangely muffled, and a brunette head appeared in front of me, dark, somber and sympathetic blue eyes looking me over. "He's dying," the girl confessed. I thought it was a girl.

"Well, yeah, one less bastard runnin' round with a sword cuttin' our friends' throats for all I care," another voice, harsh and bitter, answered the first. I wanted to sit up and cuss him out, but I was too far gone.

So instead, with all I have left, I made one last desperate attempt to be remembered. I reached up with a trembling hand that was going numb and grasped the girl's shoulder.

"My name is Derek Gray," I said, my voice a strange gurgle, but I pushed on. "I am Son of Apollo, Servant of Kronos and a…" I should have said "hero", but instead, it came out as, "A soldier. Don't forget that. Don't forget _me_."

Another lance of pain seared through me and I choked, my hand dropping from the girl's shoulder. My enemy. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore. I can no longer feel my body. I'm dying now. Officially dying.

With the hope that she _will_ remember me, that _they_ will remember me, I cut my last string connecting me to life.

In the end, I died a villain, in the eyes of the one who I asked not to forget me.

But in my heart, I am my _own_ hero.

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_There's nothing to say..._

_Thanks for reading and (hopefully) reviewing,_

_~the Apprentice_


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